Wyrd bi ful ārǣd
by Diana Prallon
Summary: The Triple Goddess has judged Arthur and found him wanting, but it is Merlin that might come to pay the ultimate price. AU to 505.
1. I

**I**

It feels like a nightmare when Gwaine moves against the Disir, his sword drawn. Merlin can feel it in his bones when they throw in backwards, and he can taste the threat in the air as they throw a spear in Arthur's direction.

His long honed skills allow him to try and stop it from hitting his King, but this is itheir/i sacred place, and in their realm, they are stronger than Merlin's magic. He wants to freeze time, so he can neutralize the danger, but he can only make it slower. Merlin sees as Mordred starts to move closer to Arthur and that sets his instincts on fire.

The others will wonder how he moved so quickly, but there he is, in front of Arthur just in time to avoid his death. For one second, he thinks he moved fast enough, but the sudden pain in his shoulder tells him otherwise.

The spear is buried into his unprotected body, and he's being thrown against Arthur. They both crumble, somewhat, and he can see the knights moving closer, trying to protect them. There's blood in his body, and Arthur's voice is desperate, but all Merlin can see is the eyes of the Disir with a sudden mirth as if they had achieved exactly what they wanted to.

He feels Percival strong arms lifting him, and he hears Arthur's strained voice as he yells for Mordred to come as well. Merlin wonders if this is the end, if now he will move against the unprotected king, but Mordred's face is soon upon his, pleading and looking just about as worried as the rest of them.

There's magic all around him, and Merlin can feel every flower, every leaf, every root of every three. He can feel the bugs and the birds, the very earth underneath him, the heartbeats of the knights and Mordred's carefully controlled magic. Everything feels very much alive, except for himself, as if it life was leaking for him.

"We'll save you" he hears Arthur voice from afar, as the king himself ties the bandages around the spear that they didn't dare to remove. "It will be alright, I promise."

He wants to tell Arthur everything, he wants to speak, he wants to move, he wants to save them all, but he can't voice anything. He can't even nod.

Merlin stares pleading at Arthur's eyes, wishing with all his force to be able to do something. The rest of the universe fades away and there's just the concern and worry in light blue, until it all turns dark and he knows no more.


	2. II

**II**

"What should we do? What should we do?"

Arthur could hear the frantic edge to his voice and knew how terrified he must sound, but he could hardly care. The idiot _had_to decide to be all noble and jump in front of him. Of course he didn't even stop to consider the obvious fact that he wasn't wearing a chainmail or an armor as the other knights, no. He had to just follow whatever stupid instincts that always drove his moron of a servant and step in front of a magical flying spear.

He looked around, waiting some sort of answer, but his knights seemed to be in shock as well. In all those years, Merlin had always managed to leave this kind of situations unschated. The one time he _had_been hurt, Arthur had lost him in the woods and it had taken him days to find him. The king was adamant that nothing like it would happen this time around.

Funnily enough, Percival was the first to react.

"We can't move him like that. We'll have to take the spear out."

"If you do that, he will die" Mordred's voice was nothing like his usual meek tone, but sure and firm. "He will bleed to death."

"Percival is right, we can't take him with it" said Leon, worried. "Even if we could find a cart, he'd never make it back to Camelot."

"So we cut it" said Gwaine, picking up his dagger. "We cut it until it's small enough for it to allow us to carry him."

Arthur nodded, looking from one man to the other. None seemed eager to cut the wood - a wrong movement could make even more damage to Merlin's body. He was already growing cold, and Arthur cradled him in his arms, hoping that his sheer wish would make him live.

Finally, Mordred stepped forward.

"I'll do it" he said, and swallowed hard. Clearly his mouth was dry with anxiety. "I don't have Merlin's skill, but I have dealt with wounds like this before."

It was a mark of how much Merlin meant to all of them that no one said a single word against it. None of them wanted to risk it and face his anger in case something went wrong. Arthur tried not to think that Mordred was only a boy, and still very inexperienced. He knew very little of what he had done in the many years since he had saved his life. Then again, Mordred had been raised by the druids, and they were skilled in the healing arts, both with and without magic, so he was Merlin's best shot.

Arthur nodded, seriously, and Mordred moved towards Merlin's shivering body and kneeled. He couldn't avoid looking away as the boy got Gwaine's sharp dagger in his hand and felt around the wood.

"I'll need you to hold him still" he heard, and as he turned, he saw Mordred shaking his head. "Not you sire. Sir Percival should hold him."

He wanted to protest against it, but there was no way to hide the fact that he was shaken to the core. The king moved away, allowing Percival to come closer and hold Merlin's body down. Mordred gestured for Elyan to hold Merlin's legs.

"You can't allow him to move or I'll risk hurting him. Please, stay as still as you can."

Arthur noticed his voice was calm and cold, as a true physician might sound. It was nothing like the impetuous knight he had been training in the last weeks. Gwaine pulled him away, allowing them a better lighting to work.

"Ok. I will start now."

Mordred looked down and begun to cut the spear slowly. He didn't make any brusque movements, but seemed to feel the weak spots in the wood before pressing with the dagger. He couldn't look - he had faced many dangers, but he hadn't been taught how to just sit and wait for a good outcome. He suddenly missed Guinevere - she always knew how to calm him down in those moments. She would keep his sanity and Gwaine's equally barely concealed shivers were a poor replacement for her soothing words.

It felt like ages, but it couldn't have been more than a few minutes before Mordred's voice sounded again.

"I think it is good enough" he said, sternly. "We'll have to be careful during the way, but it will be easier now."

Arthur turned to see that the great spear had been reduced to a small stick. Merlin seemed even paler, but other than that, there was no further damage. Mordred bandaged around Merlin's shoulders carefully, his hands moving skillfully around the servant's body, until he nodded to the man around him.

"He's ready to go."

There was no question to who would be responsible for carrying Merlin until they reached the horses as Percival raised the man as if he was a mere child. Mordred used a tone that allowed no questioning as he said that he'd carry Merlin with him in his saddle, and no one seemed to have better ideas.

Arthur didn't spare a single thought to his men stamina or what they had been through during the day. A man's life was at stake - Merlin's life - and they should arrive to Camelot as fast as they could, even if it meant riding through the night. None of them complained, taking turns to guard Mordred, who rode in the middle of their party.

Arthur though he could sometimes hear Mordred speaking soothing words for Merlin's limp body. That along with familiarity that had shown as he dressed the wound made Arthur wonder what, exactly, was the relationship between them. He knew that Merlin had been the one to take the druid boy to Morgana, and helped him heal from his wounds. Yet, he seemed to hate him when they met again on their way to Ismere. His servant never seemed to warm up to the new knight, and Arthur thought he couldn't get past the feeling of betrayal he seemed to cherish since the young man had help the saxons to hold them captive, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe Merlin's coldness towards young Mordred was his own weird way to try and hide what he truly felt.

It was impossible to miss the way Mordred looked to Merlin, as if the whole sun rose and set on the servant's feet, and Arthur had thought it was the relics of the boy he had been, the proof of how much he valued Merlin's efforts to save his life; but maybe it was something else altogether. He knew too well how such feelings could overwhelm a man and make him feel swept off his feet (Morgana had made him feel that way for a while when she first beat him in swordfight, and in Mordred's case, it must be even worse).

Of course, he had no idea how someone could possibly think about Merlin in a passionate way; but he also knew that even if his friend was more than a bit stupid, he was also brave, loyal and surprisingly wise. He knew just how much he was worth, and this was why he and his knights weren't complaining about the fierce hiding. They knew their horses would be tired and possibly even die in their way, but it was a small price to pay compared to how much Merlin had already sacrificed for them, how much he had done for them.

If it weren't for Merlin's steadfast support and tireless faith, none of them would be there. Twice Arthur himself gave up on his duties and his people, and twice his manservant had shook him out of it. He had brought all of them together as more than brothers - Lancelot, the noblest of them, and Percival who came to help when Merlin asked Lancelot for help; Elyan that had been saved through Merlin's words and knowledge, from being doomed by something that had been Arthur's fault alone; Gwaine, that had given up his wandering ways when Merlin had needed; Leon, whose life had been saved by Merlin more than once.

Without Merlin, Camelot would have fallen long ago. He might not know, but he was one of the pillars in which his reign stand. Arthur had never said it to him, and this was one of the many reasons Merlin couldn't die now, not without knowing how much he meant to Arthur, how much he had helped, how important he was for all of them. No, Arthur couldn't understand how someone would fall in love with Merlin, but neither could he imagine that someone wouldn't care for him, for he was the kind of person that found a way into everyone's heart.

So they rode through the night, Mordred's arm fast around Merlin's body, stopping only in the small hours of the morning to tend for the horses. They arrived in Camelot with the rising sun.

It was bloody red.


	3. III

**III**

Leon rode ahead of them to bring the news of their return to Camelot, and prepare the physician for what he was about to find. Arthur was almost as worried about the old man as he was about Merlin, for it wasn't unheard of people of his age dying of shock.

Gwen wasn't in the castle doors when they came, which was more than a bit strange, but there were knights ready to help move Merlin to his chambers. While they told Arthur to get some rest, he heard none of it, climbing the steps right behind them and following, Gwaine alongside. He half-heard the conversation and arguments that led to Elyan and Percival turning to their chambers (the steward had been adamant about it, saying those where Gaius' orders, and they wouldn't argue with that). Some part of his brain wondered if Mordred had gone as well, and he hoped so, for he had taken a heavy load.

At least, he didn't have to worry about the horses. Tyr was an excellent stable hand, and would look after them better than their servants could take care of their knights, and the horses would surely make a full recovery, while he couldn't be so sure about his friend.

Under the sunlight that came from Gaius' windows, Merlin looked even paler. Arthur had never even believed that to be possible, but there was something in his looks that were far from his usual white skin.

The physician paid him no attention, completely turned to his patient. The fear and pain could be seen deep in his eyes, but he moved briskly, removing the bandage and looking at the wound, before turning to them.

"Who did this, sire?"

"Sir Mordred" his voice was clipped. "It was a large pike and…"

"I can see that" cut Gaius. "Did he use any sort of remedies to this?"

"Not that I could see, no."

Gwaine was standing very still, and Gaius sighed before sitting down beside Merlin.

"What is it? Tell me, Gaius"

"He lost a lot of blood" said the man, tiredly. "And if we remove the wood, it will bleed even more."

"Can we make it?" asked Gwaine, worriedly.

"I'd have to burn the wound to stop if from killing him. It would be a long recovery" confirmed the physician. "But he had a good chance of making through, yes."

"So, why are you looking like this?" Arthur could feel the relieve washing through his whole body.

Gaius just shook his head, looking lost, before speaking.

"I'm not sure if I can save his arm, sire. Even if I do, I don't think he'll be able to use it properly again."

Arthur could feel the nausea coming back with full force. Every soldier went to battle knowing that they could die, but most rather die in glory than live maimed. And Merlin – he wasn't even a soldier. He should have never had to face this. Still, the idea of _loosing_ Merlin was far worse than the idea of having to deal with his anger at his next words.

"Do what you have to do."

He could hear Gwaine's huffed breath behind him, but he couldn't honestly mind it, not now.

"Sire" said Gaius, and he bowed, but there was still an edge of fear in his voice. "That is not all."

He could only look, because, surely, if it was worse than that, there was no chance Merlin would make it.

"I fear that the spear was poisoned" he gestured for the king to come closer, and he did so, wearily. "Can you see this marks, spreading around the wound?"

"Can't you brew an antidote?" he asked, almost desperate. Part of his world was falling apart while Merlin got weaker.

"It was a poison made with magic; it can't be healed through regular antidotes" apologized the old man. "I fear that there's little I can do for him."

It was somewhat easy to turn around, and gesture for Gwaine to check for their privacy. The knight did as he was requested as fast as his legs could carry him and closed the chambers doors, standing in front of it from inside. He was far enough that he could grant them privacy, while close enough to ear if Arthur wanted to share.

"Do _everything_ in your power to save him" ordered Arthur, trying to hide the fear in his voice.

"Sire…" begun Gaius, but he cut him quickly.

"I know that you have learned a _number _of different ways to heal people" he had to fight against the tremor in his voice. "There must be, somewhere in your books, something that can help you saving Merlin."

"As I said, sire…"

"I don't care if you have to use magic" he said, finally, voicing out loud what he had only tried to hint before. "Just… Just save him."

For a shining moment, he believed it was the answer to his problems, and he believed that with his permission, Gaius would use the very magic that had been used to harm Merlin to save him, but, as the physician's eyebrows came back to their proper place after rising particularly high, he saw that the old man was at the point of breaking himself.

"I wish I could" he said, softly. "But I don't think that I can. My magic isn't nearly strong enough to save him. A skilled healer could remove the poison and rebuild the vases, muscle and skin, leaving him completely healthy, but I can't even work it enough to save him from the poison."

Arthur's face fell, and he could feel as if some part of him was being torn apart. Still, he had to cling to hope.

"What about that friend of yours, Alice? Isn't she such healer? Can't she…"

The way the old man shook his head was enough to make him silent again.

"She's too far from Camelot. Merlin wouldn't resist that long."

"What about that old man? The one I called for my father…"

But Gaius' head was denying him once more.

"He hasn't been seen since."

Arthur's hands were in his head before he could understand what he was doing, pulling his hair to the side, searching, desperately, for some sort of way out of this situation.

"I can't lose him, Gaius" he said, his voice rising in despair. "He's the only friend I ever had"

He turned away from the pain he could see in the old man's face, knowing that it wasn't easy for him either. Gaius had cared for Merlin as if he was his own child, and having to see him in such a state and recognize that there was little he could do was unmaking him as much as it was shattering Arthur's very soul.

It didn't help that he saw Gwaine's face untouched by emotion, apart from the tears that ran from his eyes against his will. He always told his knights that no man was worth their tears, but that certainly didn't apply to Merlin.

"There's nothing we can do" said Gaius, faintly.

"Are you really willing to use magic?" asked Gwaine, and Arthur was surprised that he had figured that out – then again, maybe he had misjudged the man.

"I'll do anything" said Arthur, tightly. "But there's no one… no one I can…"

"Mordred" said Gwaine, simply.

Both man stared at him, confused.

"He was raised by the druids, was he not? Doesn't he know magic?"

"If he could heal Merlin, he would already…" started Arthur, but Gaius' stern look and Gwaine sour grin made him stop.

"So he could save a man's life and end up in a pyre?" questioned Gwaine, his teeth bared. "I don't think so."

Arthur nodded, and Gaius moved ahead.

"Sire, I don't think…"

"Do you have any other ideas?" he asked, looking at the old man.

"No" was the only word he uttered.

"So I'll do what I must" he said, nodding.

"If you're right, sire" said Gaius, tiredly, "if Mordred indeed has magic of his own… Then it is likely he has already used some – Merlin isn't nearly as far gone as I'd have expected given the circumstances. It would be better to allow Mordred to rest before asking him to do something – and it also would be better if you rested as well. Sometimes when we're that tired, we make decisions that we come to regret later, sire."

Arthur looked at him, honestly looked, and for the first time in his life he managed to understand that even if Gaius was a good advisor and experienced, he was one of his father's man – even having dealt with sorcery before, he could see nothing in it but evil, and would rather lose someone than to risk using it. It might be true that Gaius didn't have the powers to make Merlin better (Arthur didn't doubt it, he was sure that he if _could_ Gaius would have used them without his permission); but his resistance was far deeper than that.

It was against everything that Arthur had always been taught to ask for such a thing, and it had ended badly before, but he also couldn't forget Gaius' own warning that there were more people willing to live on the world he wanted to build than those who he would have imagined. Hadn't been this very blindness, this love for the old ways that had lead The Disir to judge him unworthy?

He wasn't a man to make the same mistake twice.

"I will be back later, with Mordred" he answered, and left.

* * *

He found his Queen laying on their bed, her head hidden in one of the pillows. Part of him wished nothing but to tumble in the sheets and sleep until he couldn't anymore, then maybe all of this would have been a bad dream, and they'd still be all safe in Camelot. Another part, though, felt outraged that she would be resting quietly as his world came apart.

As he got near, he saw that she wasn't resting, merely hiding. He picked up the pillow, pulling him away, and saw that her face was blotched by tears, her nose red, her perfect hair out of place. She didn't open her eyes, but he could hear her sniffing.

"Guinevere?" he asked, sitting down, and a fresh amount of tears came from her closed eyes.

"Thank God you're here" she whispered, clinging to his lap and crying harder.

"Guinevere!" he said, unsure what to do about her state. He had always been terrible with weeping women.

"It's all my fault" she wailed, shaking her head. "I told him to look after you!"

Arthur knew well enough the feeling of guilt, wasn't he thinking the same? And yet, he couldn't avoid helping her.

"Merlin shouldn't have jumped. He isn't a knight."

"I did the same thing before" she complained through the tears. "I asked Lancelot to protect you, and he gave up his life for yours!"

Something inside his heart chilled while she sobbed. That much was true, of course, but Arthur didn't like to remember how much he had owned the knight and how much he had been hurt by him. As she spoke of it again, he couldn't shake the feeling that Lancelot's first and foremost love and compromise had always been to Guinevere – not to him, not to Camelot. He had loved her in a way that Arthur never could – Camelot would always come first. He didn't need her words to remind him of that, to make him feel unworthy once again. And yet, at the same time that Gwen blamed herself, Arthur knew deep within him that in this case, she had nothing to do with it.

"That wasn't your fault. Merlin is an idiot, and would have done it even if you hadn't said anything", he caressed her hair, taking deep breaths. "It's just who he is – he's loyal to the core, you can't doubt that. He saved my life a number of times – he drank poison for me when I had done nothing but to mistreat him. He saved me from my own self as well. He stood by me – by us – every step of the way."

She looked up, giving a small and sad smile.

"I'm being selfish" she said, pulling him closer, into an embrace. "He's your friend, I know."

Arthur nodded and allowed her to rest his head against her boson, taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself.

"I shouldn't have allowed him to come" he said, his voice weak.

"That never worked" she said, through a snort. "He would sneak out of the palace and searching for you as soon as you left the gates."

"The fool" agreed Arthur, trying to reign his feelings.

"A loyal fool. I'm sure it's foolish of us to worry. He's tougher than he looks. Let's hope he can make it." said Gwen, and she gave him a tiny kiss to the forehead. "Let me help you with these."

She handled him and pulled up his shirts, gently, and flatted his hair as it came up after the touch of the fabric. It was more than he could handle – it made his memory flash back to the many occasions in which Merlin had helped him out of his clothes, always complaining about his hair that wouldn't stay where it should, and brushing it briskly with the comb.

Arthur couldn't say how it happened, but he was crying – not just tears on his face, but complete sobs racking through his body, trembling, burning his cheeks, and he couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, he could _live_ in a world in which Merlin was no more.

Who would stand by him? Who would listen to his fears? Who would protect his secrets? Who would tell him he could be _better_? Who would give him the answers he didn't want to hear? Who would be there, if Merlin wasn't?

Guinevere was by his side, soothing him as much as she could, laying him on the pillows, and he couldn't say when he stopped crying, he just knew that darkness came upon him as he sank into the dark sleep of exhaustion.


	4. IV

**IV**

Arthur woke to the sound of voices arguing on the outside of his room.

"He needs to rest" said Guinevere, all her queenly demeanor showing.

"Yes, my lady, I agree, and yet, I must wake him up."

His head was still a bit fuzzy, and it was dark outside of the room as he tried to stand up.

"He has been on the road for days, I don't think…"

"I'm sorry, Your Highness, but I'm bound by orders above yours."

That was George – always dutiful, even if it meant standing up against to the Queen of Camelot herself.

Arthur walked to the door, as Guinevere made an annoyed sound.

"I'll hold myself responsible for it. You can go, George"

As the King opened the door, he saw that the servant was reluctant to leave, clearly still hoping to obey to the orders Arthur had given him – and Gwen looked worried.

"Arthur" she said, rushing to his side. "We didn't mean to wake you…"

"It's quite alright" he said, rubbing his face. "I told George to come for me as soon as Sir Mordred was up."

"I'm sure there's nothing so important that can't wait until the morning" said Guinevere, a crease on her forehead. "Both of you can only benefit from sleeping some more hours."

"Time is a luxury that we don't have" he said, stepping out of the room. "Not if we mean to save Merlin."

Arthur saw his wife biting her lip, nervously at that.

"Arthur…" she started, and then shook her head. "I don't think… Gaius doesn't think…"

"Do not lose hope yet" said Arthur, holding her through the shoulders. "Ok? Do not lose hope."

Guinevere nodded, and he turned to George, that still stood there staring at the wall as if he couldn't see them talking.

"I'll have supper on Sir Mordred's chamber" said Arthur, straight at him. "Please, serve it to us there."

"Sire" said George, nodding, and left straight away. Arthur turned to Guinevere one last time, before leaving.

"We must believe that we can still save him."

"And what if we can't?"

Arthur took a deep breath, trying to hide his fear.

"If it is truly beyond our abilities… Then we'll have to find another way."

He turned away and walked towards Mordred's quarters without explaining – he had made it clear that he had no wish to share with Guinevere just now what he meant to do to save Merlin; she might be his wife, but certainly wouldn't agree with his actions, and he couldn't waste time arguing his point. One way or the other, it was for the best that just a small number of people that actually knew about it.

* * *

The blessing of youth meant that Mordred didn't look anywhere near as tired as Arthur himself felt. Not that he was old, no way, it was just that Mordred was still very fresh, in a way Arthur could barely recall being himself. He had, after all, been a knight since his fifteenth birthday. It was funny to think this had been Mordred's very first mission when he could barely remember his own.

"Sire" said the young man, rising from where he was sitting, and Arthur gestured him back to his table. He seemed to be reading an old book, and it surprised him a bit – he didn't think he'd find his knight reading.

"I've asked George to bring supper for us here, I hope it is not a problem."

"It's an honor" said Mordred, his eyes shining. "How is Merlin?"

"Not well" answered the king, truthfully. "I would like to thank you for how well you cared for him on the way here."

There was a knock on the door and George came in bringing some stew and fresh bread. Mordred seemed wrong-footed around the servant, clearly unaccustomed to being waited on. George put them both wine and stood on their side, vigilantly.

"You may leave us" said Arthur, and he could see that the man was fighting a scowl.

"Sire?"

"We can manage ourselves" he added, and the good thing about George was that he simply bowed and walked out of the room. Merlin would have questioned him endlessly, wondering why couldn't he just stay around as he usually did. The memory gave Arthur a new pang of loss – Merlin was inconvenient, annoying, terribly clumsy, but he was not ready to give it up. Of course he'd never say that out loud, but he wouldn't change Merlin for the world.

Mordred was watching him with his eyebrows high up in surprise.

"It was nothing" he said, finally, answering Arthur's previous words. The knight just stayed where he was, watching him, and the king felt the pressure and tried to fight it as well as he could.

"Won't you eat?" he asked, and Mordred pointedly looked to Arthur's own untouched food.

"Oh, right" he said, taking a chunk of bread and putting it inside the bowl ahead him.

They ate silently for a while. It was clear that Mordred had refrained himself earlier just out of courtesy and respect, for now he attacked his food as if it were an enemy army bent on destruction. Arthur took his time, wondering how would be the best way of approaching the matter at hand.

"What is troubling you, my lord?" asked Mordred, taking the decisions out of his hand.

"Merlin" he said, seriously. "He's still in great danger."

"He was grievously wounded" agreed the knight, looking at him. Arthur took a sip out of his wine cup, taking a deep breath before speaking.

"There's something I'd like to ask you" he said, looking straight into the young man's eyes. "I hope you'll answer me truthfully."

There was just a tiny hint of worry in the twist of Mordred's lips, but he seemed perfectly composed when he replied.

"My lord?"

"Do you have magic?" asked the King, point blank. Mordred frowned for a second, before opening his mouth, ready to speak, but Arthur decided it was better if he made himself clear. "I'm not accusing you of anything, Mordred, I'm just asking. You _were_ a druid child, it is only a natural assumption that you _may_ possess magic."

That seemed to calm the man down somewhat, but there his expression was still hard as he replied.

"I've grown with the druids, yes, but I swore allegiance to you, sire, and I have no wish to break the laws you hold" his voice was firm and strong, and he looked down for a moment before looking back up. "But I do have some gifts that I _chose_ not to use."

Arthur thought about that for a moment. There was a voice in the back of his head that told him that sorcerer's couldn't be trusted under any circumstances; and that in keeping this from him Mordred was proving it once more – then again, that kind of reasoning was probably the very reason the young man hadn't said anything. If he was to be believed – and if Arthur didn't trust him he would never have thought about asking him what he was about to ask – he hadn't been doing magic behind Arthur's back. It wasn't common, but it wasn't unheard of either – Gaius hadn't been the only one to that chose to abide the laws instead of fleeing Camelot in the long years since his father had started his war against magic. One way or the other, he Mordred clearly hadn't tried to lie or hide when Arthur asked, and this was a point in his favor.

"If you wish me to leave, sire, I'll do so immediately" said the knight, looking down. "If you wish to burn me, I shall accept you judgment as well, as I swore to."

"Mordred!" exclaimed Arthur, a bit horrified at the thought. "Do you really trust me so little?"

"It _is_ the law" he answered, simply.

For a second, it felt to Arthur as he was being berated for his plans, but he didn't dwell on that. He had made a decision, and he knew that Gaius had thought that some sleep might change his mind, but the image of Merlin lying on the bed close to death was enough for him to ignore such things. There was a reason he had told his father's ghost that now it was his time – he'd do things as he saw fit, not as Uther would have done.

(If Uther had had someone like Merlin in his life, it is likely that he would never have dived into such madness as the persecution of so many innocents along with those truly guilty. Then again, maybe his mother had been the person that held him back, and with her death, his father had lost everything that held him in check. If anything could make Arthur even more determined to do everything he could to save Merlin was the knowledge that without his idiotic manservant he'd probably have grown to be just like his father).

"I trust each and every one of my knights deeply" he said, finally. "If I didn't believe in what truly lies in your heart, I would have never made you a knight."

He could see the color rising in Mordred's cheeks, but he didn't stop speaking.

"Now, what I must ask of you go far beyond the duties of knighthood – and it is far more delicate as well, but I feel that I can trust you with it."

"My lord?" asked Mordred, looking at him.

"Merlin is far too injured – if left to the devices we have, he'll surely die. His only hope is _magic_." The knights eyes were wide open in surprise, and Arthur could feel his own jaw hurting from the tension in it. "Would you help him? Would you use your magic to save him?"

"Sire…" Mordred begun, unsure. "I'm not sure I'm the right person to ask. There must be others…"

"He doesn't have the time" explained Arthur. "I wouldn't ask it of you, Mordred, but you're the only hope he's got. Gaius says he can't do it – that it is beyond him both in terms of science and magic, but I'm sure that he'd be willing to explain to you what exactly must be done."

Mordred just looked at him for a single moment, and Arthur knew he was weighing his options around. He would never turn against Mordred for saying no, but the young man must have learned to live in fear of it. Arthur should have reassured him, but couldn't bring himself to, for he had no idea what he'd do if the knight declined the request.

"Sire…" he started, finally. "I'm not sure I can save him" he sighed, deeply. "I may try, but I can't promise you anything."

"It is enough that you try" answered Arthur, truthfully. "I'll not hold it against you if it doesn't work."

Mordred nodded, and Arthur could finally breath.

"Come on, then. No time to loose. We must get to Gaius."

* * *

When they arrived at Gaius chambers, the physician seemed to be lost under a heavy pile of books. Mordred looked to Arthur for a second, raising his eyebrows, and Arthur cleared his throat. The old man looked at him and took his glasses off, massaging his temple for a moment.

"I take it that it means that you haven't changed your mind, sire" he said, tiredly.

"Will you help?" asked the King, straight on. "Your knowledge is essential, even with Modred's magic."

The physician stood up and gestured for the knight to come closer. He peered into his eyes for a long while, clearly trying to decide if he could trust him.

"Have you ever dealt with healing magic?"

Mordred seemed torn, looking from Arthur to Gaius, and the King closed the door shut behind him.

"You may speak freely" he assured with a nod.

"Yes. When I was with the druids sometimes…" he was clearly uncomfortable, and fought through his feelings to continue, "when there were attacks on the camp, they'd need all hands to help the wounded."

Arthur flinched involuntarily. He honestly wondered why had Mordred chose to help him, why he was loyal, when he and his family had brought him and his kind so much suffering – his father _had_ died in the same square Modred walked by every day in his way to the training grounds. It couldn't be easy to deal with such memories – he hadn't moved into the King's quarters until _after_ his marriage, for he seemed to see Uther everywhere in it. Still, it was too late to question his motives, and Gaius was already speaking again.

"… moving from the inside to the outside is essential, and I will use drugs to guarantee that he's asleep and that his temperature is down, so you won't need to try and deal with all of it at once."

Arthur knew he had missed some of the conversation, but he doubted it would make much of a difference. Mordred was biting his cheek from the inside, clearly nervous.

"I am not sure if I'll have the power to do such thing" he said, finally, fidgeting.

"Nonsense" answered Gaius, matter-of-factly. "You are quite powerful, Mordred, I've met few people so gifted as you are."

There was a look between them, and Arthur couldn't understand – he must have missed something.

"How can you tell?" asked Arthur, honestly curious.

Gaius looked from the young man to his king, before replying patiently.

"You must remember, sire, that Sir Modred first came to Camelot as a child – and was wounded by the guards. Merlin and Morgana convinced me to save him – the infection was fierce – so I have examined him before."

Arthur nodded slowly, trying to turn his thoughts into sentences.

"Can you always tell? Did you know about Morgana?"

Gaius frowned, and Mordred seemed nervous too.

"She didn't show any signs of power until she was a grown woman" he said, finally. "And soon after they begun to appear, Morgause took her."

Arthur nodded, slowly.

"Now, Sir Modred, make yourself ready. It is going to be a long night."


	5. V

**V**

If Gaius had hoped that Arthur would change his mind, he certainly didn't allow his expectations to stop him from making preparations for Mordred's help. The physician escorted the knight to sit in a ample chair that clearly had been brought from some other room (probably Gwaine's, since he was the only one who knew about Arthur's ideas), which was positioned near to the in which Merlin lay. The candle light have a new softness to his traces, and he could almost look as if he were asleep, if it weren't for the drops running from his forehead and the big wound on his arm.

Mordred inclined himself closer to the servant, observing carefully the damage, and messing with the new bandages. He seemed to be muttering to himself, and Arthur felt more than a bit nervous.

"Did you find a spell, or…?" asked the King, looking at his old counselor.

The man shook his head, while the other clearly took little notice of them, engaged in his explorations.

"I think it'll be best if we allow Mordred to do it his own way – with all the respect, sire, you do not know much about the many ways magic can be used." He made a tiny gesture, as if saying he was sorry about it. Of course, Uther had made sure he heard as little as possible about it, but now he was King, Arthur found that his father zeal was actually a problem, for the was to face an enemy he knew nothing about – or, in this case, an ally.

"Then tell me" it was a simple statement, but it was also an order, and Gaius recognized it for what it was.

"Spells and incantations can help, but they mostly serve to focus the sorcerer's power. Objects and amulets can serve both to preserve the energy they created and to multiply it" The physician pointed to Mordred before he went on. "Now, the druids use magic in a different way, sire – a more pure way, if I might say. They hardly ever use their power to defy the laws of nature, but rather they harness it to work _alongside_ it."

"What exactly does that mean?"

There old man seemed to have an endless patience, or he really liked to explain new things, for not even a shadow of annoyance marked his face before he went on.

"Instead of summoning fire from air, as some sorcerers would do, they concentrate the heat of things around until it sparkles. In this case, instead of using his power to seal the wounds, Mordred'll help Merlin's body to fix itself, directing the organs and muscles on how they should work to heal him."

Arthur frowned.

"That sounds… Incredibly complex."

"It is, sire" said Gaius, seriously. "And it also consumes an enormous amount of energy."

"So why not using a spell?" he asked, annoyed and confused.

This time, Gaius did sigh.

"Would you ask your smith to make chairs? Or your stonemason to cook?" he asked, smartly. "It's not so different with magic – it is not the same for everyone. Some of us are more comfortable with spells, others with instincts. Almost any person can do some magic, if they make enough effort and study, but some magic users – and the druids are among those – are _born_ with their gifts. It cannot be parted from them, and it cannot be denied or suppress, although, after a certain training, it can be controlled and they can choose not to use it."

Arthur nodded – once again, his thoughts went for his long lost sister.

"Which was her case?"

Clearly, Gaius didn't need him to expand on it.

"Vivienne was very gifted" he said, tiredly, "so none of us should be surprised that her child would grow to be powerful. But it took so long to become manifest and I had thought she didn't inherit such traits from her mother."

"But you were wrong" said the king, not completely gentle.

"I was" The physician shook his head. "I thought… She has the gift of Sigh. That means she can see things that are yet to come, or things that are far away without the need of spells. I thought – hoped – those were just the flukes of an idle girl, but I was wrong."

"I should have seen it" he muttered, shaking his head, angry with himself. "There were many times she warned me…"

Gaius patted his arm, kindly.

"None of us saw it, for none of us _wanted_ it to be true. Now, my lord, if I may ask you something?"

"Whatever you need" replied the King, seriously.

"When Mordred is done, he will be in a dire need of rest; but he won't be able to until his appetite is satisfied. Please make sure that there's food for him – especially sweets – for I don't think he'll be able to leave my chambers until he's fed. Also, if you could… Tell Gwaine that as when this is over, he'll need special attention. I think you can trust him to find a way to solve the problem."

"Special attention?" questioned the King, confused.

Gaius winced, and that sparkled the understanding in Arthur's head. He could feel his face heating – color also heated Mordred's cheeks where he was standing, very deliberately not looking to them, and he stuttered as he answered.

"I'll talk to him – and order the food. I'll be back soon."

"Thank you, sire".

Arthur turned around to leave as soon as he could, and didn't even pay attention to the words the two man where exchanging inside. He better find Gwaine – he honestly had no idea how to deal with that news.

* * *

Mordred could hear the king leaving, but he didn't turn to see it – he wasn't sure he could face him after Gaius' words.

"I take it that you already accessed the situation if you have time to blush" said the physician, curtly.

Mordred was taken aback by the sharpness in his tone, but he supposed the stress was taking his toll on the old man. Merlin had been is ward, after all, and was as close to a son.

"Honestly?" he asked, knowing that he had to be honest. "His injuries are massive. I'm not sure I'll be able to fix it all by myself – and even if I _can_ fix the vessels, muscles and skin; there's still the poison. I have no idea if we'll be able to clear it from his body; not when it was done my people as powerful as The Disir."

Gaius nodded, his shoulders set on a tight light.

"I wondered about that as well. Still, don't worry about the power – what I said earlier is true; you're a powerful magician, Mordred; and you can always try and school Merlin's own power to work alongside yours. I take it that you are familiar with such procedures?"

"I am" said the young man, and a shiver came through his body. "Gaius… What if I fail?"

The old man's scowl was even bigger than usual.

"Then he will certainly die."

This much had been obvious, and not at all what Mordred meant with the question; although it did give the druid a new focus – he wouldn't allow Emrys to die on his watch.

"What will the King do?" he hated that his voice faltered. He couldn't help but fear this to be some kind of trap.

"You're worried that he will turn against you?" asked the physician, tilting his head. "Surely you know Arthur better than that."

Mordred didn't say anything. The Arthur he knew was a good and kind man, a man that could certainly understand that sometimes, even if you gave your best to prevent it, tragedy strikes. But they were also talking about magic, which he had fought against his whole life and hadn't had good reasons to trust.

"He has done it before – there was an old man, asked to help Uther in his last days – and Arthur turned against him when he failed. Nothing could have saved Uther, not really. But I like to think he grew into a better man since then – a surer man. One way or the other, it is not the same thing; as much as he cares about Merlin, even if he's willing to sacrifice much, he's still just a servant in Arthur's eyes – he doesn't know… It's not his father, and the feelings could never be equally heated."

The knight tried to fight the smirk that fought to appear on his face, but it was almost impossible. Surely Gaius must have noticed that Arthur's affections for Merlin run deeper than the usual between a servant and his master – or even friends? Then again, the truth was that the king seemed a bit oblivious to just how much he cared about Merlin, and how important he was for him; even if he knew nothing about Emrys prophecies and the destiny that awaited for them, even if he had no idea the man he cherished that much was also the most powerful sorcerer to have ever lived.

"I should think not" he said, guarding this thought. There was little he could do – he couldn't deny the request, and it wouldn't help to worry about the possible outcomes. With a lot of luck, he'd be able not only to relief the men he admired, but also to help them into building some of the bridged that needed to be built in order for them to meet their destiny. He stood up and took two goblets of water, foolishly wishing it was wine to help his courage, knowing that even if it was, it was more likely to stand in the way of his job. He nodded slowly, focusing himself with a few trained breaths, before seating himself again on the chair and speaking to no one in particular. "Let's start then."

Mordred never saw Arthur coming back into the physician's chambers – he could no longer see the world inside him as it was. There were forms and smells, but they were too big and complex to his mind as it sunk deeply inside Merlin's body. He couldn't say if his eyes were opened or closed as he moved the skin towards itself, poking it until it reattached, closing up the torn vessels.

He could see the dark marks of poison, but there were much more pressing concerns – the loss of blood would kill faster than the substances. It was a long and repetitive job, layer after layer of fixing, of making the body remember how it was supposed to be. It didn't take much probing for Merlin's magic naturally coming to help, powerful and bright in a much lighter shade of gold that almost blinded Mordred. He couldn't understand how someone could not feel it – even on sacred places, even in full rapport with nature; he had never felt so much pure magic as if felt within Merlin.

As he moved on to the muscles, he could barely notice the strain on his own – on druid camps, there would always be someone watching over the healer, but he didn't have such luxury now. It didn't matter – there was too much adrenaline on his blood, too much riding on his success, and tiny little things such as cramps or numbness wouldn't stand on his way. It also helped that Merlin's magic seemed to sense it and sooth his body – he could only with that Emrys would be near as kind with him while awake.

Even if vessels were tiny and frail, they were easier to fix than the bulk of muscles. He had never honestly noticed how fit Merlin was under his usual clothing – so it was all a surprise on how much they remembered, and how they fought with him to come back into place. It was a good think, he knew it was, and either himself or someone moved to grab what was left of the spear out of Merlin's shoulder. Mordred almost sobbed with relieve when it didn't bleed.

Now it was a simple matter of making sure the muscles were swaying correctly, that they were back to their usual strength and flexibility. He knew even before he started that they would work perfectly; Gaius had been right, the combined power of their magic was more than enough to fix them. After all the struggle, fixing the outer layer of skin was almost too easy; feeling it's smoothness under his hands (although they probably weren't really touching him), healing it until all that was left was a scar that looked years old.

The druid could have dropped to his knees and fell asleep on the floor right then, but there was still more to be done – the success would mean little if they couldn't get rid of the poison. Taking a deep breath, he sunk in again, looking for the dark-purple markings of the substance inside Merlin's body. The restored circulation meant they were already spreading through him, and when Mordred tried to dissolve them, they attacked him viciously, sending him right back into his body.

He blinked once, and then again, trying to understand what had happened. The backslash had left him confused and hurt.

Gaius' look made it clear that he had a good idea of went on, but nothing could have prepared to the awed look in Arthur's face.

* * *

"I think that's enough, my boy" announced the physician, seriously.

"Will he really be alright?" asked the king, anxiously.

"We'll know more in the morning" said Gaius in a tone that left no room for argument. "His shoulder seems to be completely healed. Surely there will be some pain and maybe swelling, but it won't last long."

"So he _will_ be fine" reaffirmed Arthur, seeming even more awed.

"There's still the poison" Mordred explained, his voice low. He seemed subdued, and it was clearly that all the magic had taken its toll on him. "I couldn't… I didn't…"

"It's too much to be done at once" declared the old man, patting his back. "You did an amazing job, Mordred. Try and be proud of it. We'll worry about the poison afterwards – now what you need is food and… to relax."

"Yes, food" said Arthur, smiling at him. "I got you some pie – and sweetened peaches."

Mordred couldn't avoid grinning back – probably comforted by Gaius' words. He accepted the food being handled, and ate it with abandon, as if he hadn't eaten in days. Arthur could only watch – he had seen magic performed before, of course, but it hadn't prepared him for what would happen that night. No matter what happened, he knew he'd never forget it – the way that the air seemed thicker, with a quality that was almost musical and, at the same time, almost thunderous. It made something in his blood curl and unfold at once.

He knew he must look foolish, but from all wonders he had seen in his life, none had been more impressive than the way Mordred's eyes glowed in gold when he opened them, or the swift way his arms and hands would move from time to time, as if he was using his gestures to heal as well. Merlin himself seemed to shine with the energy that enveloped him.

At first, there hadn't been much to see – but then, slowly, the blood seemed to look darker, and the wood moved inch by inch to leave the no longer injured body. It was almost unbelievable the completeness of the healing. Arthur couldn't take his eyes away from the pair of them, and they never looked more alike – and, at the same time, they had never looked more different from one another.

The color was coming back to Mordred's cheeks now, as he finished the first round of food, and as if on a cue, Gwaine came inside.

"I've just left fresh bread and some more sweets on Mordred's chambers" he said, before turning and seeing the young knight. "Oh, you are done, then."

"For now" said Mordred, still sounding tired, but now as much as before. "There's still… But I can't…"

"He looks perfect" was Gwaine's answer, looking fondly at the patient. Arthur felt something inside him clenching – he knew the knight and his servant were close friends (he had suspected it went far beyond that, at least for a while), but after he had seen Mordred taking care of Merlin and whispering to him in his feverish sleep, he felt like Gwaine's looks and interest were offending. There was something pure and complicated between the two younger men, and Gwaine had no business coming between them.

"It was a fine job" he said, his tone clipped. Gwaine's smile seemed to mock him, but he didn't budge. "Can you please assist Mordred back to his rooms? I think… You had set something for him, yeah?"

"Yes, sire" answered Gwaine, smoothly.

"You should go to bed too, your majesty" Gaius added. "It is late, and we all should rest."

"Yes" he said, standing up. Part of him wanted to stay around, but he knew it to be both foolish and a nuisance to the old man. "I'll be back in the morning, but let me know if anything changes."

"Of course", the physician's voice was smooth. "Good night."

Arthur took the dismissal for what it was and left the room, following Mordred and Gwaine.


End file.
